


Lady in Red

by BeautifullyObsessed



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Damsel in Distress, Danger, F/M, Magic, Master of the Mystic Arts, Melodrama, Spooky, Strangebatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:00:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifullyObsessed/pseuds/BeautifullyObsessed
Summary: A being of infinite evil abducts Stephen's ladylove, hoping to lure him to his death.  This reads quite melodramatically--so please just think of it as an old-fashioned, Hollywood B-movie--and it is (hopefully) in keeping with the spookiness of Halloween.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009052) by [BeautifullyObsessed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifullyObsessed/pseuds/BeautifullyObsessed). 



> If you are familiar with my longtime WIP, "Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight", you will recognize my 'damsel in distress', Teyla of Hadeeth. If not, know that she is a Healer with strong empathetic abilities, who studied briefly at Kamar-Taj under the tutelage of Doctor Strange. In the course of her relationship with Stephen, she has developed the ability to communicate with him telepathically, especially at times of intense emotion and stress.

He heard the music of her laughter echoing through the great hall several minutes before he actually spotted her—knowing that she wasn’t quite herself just from the sound of it; the music that he cherished was somehow darkened, made throaty and far more sensual than he’d ever heard it, even at their most intimate moments of play. He sent a thought her way, though it had been several days since he’d actually gotten any sign, any confirmation, any response at all from her, in the wake of such attempts.  But Stephen had been certain that she lived, not only due to Teyla’s usefulness as bait to lure him to this place, but also because he just  _knew_  he would have immediately  _felt_  it if mortal harm had come to her.  Those uncharacteristic notes of darkness in her laughter had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and a seed of unease breaking into bloom inside his chest.  He quickened his pace down the stone corridor, regardless of the many sets of alien eyes that marked his passage.

Stephen had met with no resistance when he had passed through the gateway from Earth, and none as he’d entered the obsidianfortress of the creature currently calling itself Hades—in clear imitation of Earth mythology.  An eldritch light emanated from the dank, moisture-weeping walls, and he was especially cautious to avoid contact with that noxious liquid, suspecting that even a small brush against it might allow it to eat its way into his very mortal flesh. The closer he came to the two-story archway at the entrance to ‘Hades’ throne room, the more humid and restrictive the air grew, thick in his lungs, slowing his movements, and drenching him in sweat beneath his wizard’s tunic.  Cloak seemed to tighten protectively around his shoulders, although Stephen thought perhaps the foul damp that weighed upon him so laboriously was affecting his loyal relic as well.  He paused before the stone arch, listening to Teyla’s mirthless laughter, and gathering his wits for whatever battle lay ahead.

Prepared as he had tried to be—once he’d discovered who had abducted his sweet, guileless Teyla—he could never have envisioned the sight that greeted him.   _Blood red_.  Clothed in a mass of velvet and satin, she twirled before the throne, the full skirt of the scarletgown that swathed her slender form billowing about her.  Stephen watched aghast as she spun, her arms flung wide, her blackened hair whipping wildly about her head.  Every several turns she would falter, made dizzy by her motion, and stagger briefly—but at the growled command of the dark figure on the throne, she would begin her macabre dance again.  His heart cried out in agony for his helpless woman, and his mind for retribution against the creature that had somehow stolen her will and was torturing her so.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” boomed the hoary voice from beneath the tarnished crown, “Comes the Master of the Mystic Arts!  Come to quail before my magnificence…come to beg mercy for his little lover.”  It cawed an ugly, deep-throated laugh, enough to freeze Teyla in place.  Her head fell forward, and even from where he stood, Stephen could see her tremble, straining against the control exerted over her.   _It’s alright, honey,_ his mind whispered to hers, as he hoped to break through whatever block between them this Hades had created,  _I’m here now, and I will not allow him to hold you in his power a moment more_.

“Foolish, pitiful, mortal man,” Hades exclaimed, “I have allowed you to approach my person only so I might look upon your despair!  Your mind tricks will avail you nothing!”  

Stephen could not discern the malignant being’s features, for its face was obscured by a fluctuating cloud of darkness.  He would like to have seen his adversary, as he has Hade’s foul companion when he had vanquished her, but for now he needed to learn as much as he could about the creature, hoping to discover a weakness enough to defeat it.

“Come sit at my feet, little one,” it cooed mockingly, raising a claw-like hand to beckon Teyla to him.  “Your savior is bound to failure, and you must accustom yourself to your rightful place.”

Teyla whimpered, and Stephen could see that enough of her own will remained for her to attempt resistance.  Hades bellowed his displeasure, and she fell to her knees, crying out in Hadeethan.  He could not translate her exclamation verbatim, but Stephen had learned enough of her native tongue to know that she was expressing her defiance. But despite her best efforts, the creature had his way with her, forcing her to crawl up the stairs of the dais, and seat herself on the floor beside the throne.

In silent communication, Cloak was urging him forward, reading Stephen’s impulse to fly to Teyla’s side, to scoop her up and portal them to safety.  Stephen let Cloak know that such timing would be ill advised—for he needed to assess the situation more fully; to discover what traps the malevolent being had lain.  He would be useless to his beloved Healer if he fell before he’d even reached her side.

“I see you harbor no fear, Wizard,” Hades told him reasonably, “At least not on your own behalf.” It cackled at that realization, “Oh, but this little thing is dear to you, dearer than any other life in the cosmos.” It reached down and ran its fingers through Teyla’s hair, purring greedily, “I had thought to use her to lure you here, so I might exact a punishment upon you for your destruction of she whom _I_ treasured above all things…”

“She brought her own destruction upon herself.” Stephen strode forward, making a bold show of confidence, “I warned her repeatedly that the people of Tulanea were not hers to toy with.  I assure you–I do not relish taking  _any_  life, but in her case, it was necessary as she would not heed my threats.” He did not add that he was protecting an innocent, peaceful population of farmers and philosophers, for neither Hades nor his now dead sister cared a bit about the innocent.  “As I will take yours if you do not free Teyla of Hadeeth, and allow us both free passage from this word.”

Hades rose to his full height; Stephen estimated it was at least a dozen feet tall, a full two feet taller than its sibling had been.  “You dare to make demands of me, paltry mortal?  In my own throne room!”  It shook its fist in the air, thundering on, “I tell you now, charlatan, that I will feast on your bones this very day, and this sweet morsel that you so covet will be made to drink of your blood!  Then she will be mine; eternally mine as payment for what you stole from me.”

Stephen felt his own power surge through him, coursing through his veins with righteous fury. He balled his fists, nearly ready to make his stand, hoping that his calculations were correct—and that Cloak would succeed with its part of his plan.

Hades motioned again with his claw, and Teyla rose to her feet, her head lolling forward, her body as limp as a puppet on its strings awaiting the manipulations of its master.  “Yes, Doctor Strange, she will be my recompense.  I will make her my new Persephone, and she will forget you, her origin, even her own name, long after your flesh has turned to dust!” **…**


	2. Chapter 2

“Never,” Teyla moaned, so softly that Stephen wondered if he had imagined it.  “Not...in…ten thousand…lifetimes!”  She panted hard with the effort of each word, and with each word her voice grew stronger.  She began to thrash her head to and fro, struggling to break loose of the creature’s control over here, succeeding enough to take a few stumbling steps forward, and raising her face towards Stephen.

Dark were the trails of tears upon her fair cheeks, colored by the heavy kohl that lined her eyes.  “Beloved,” she husked, her deep wine stained lips trembling with the strain of her defiance, “By my soul I swear…it will never be so!”  It took Stephen every ounce of discipline in his veins to keep from flying to her side; he could feel her agony, felt it branded upon his heart—but to act too soon would only bring disaster.  If she could just manage a few more steps away from the malevolent beast, he might open a portal between them and send her to safety.

But Hades was wily—surely with some awareness of the mystic tools at Strange’s disposal—acting swiftly to prevent that sort of rescue.  He closed his claw into a fist so tight that black ichor welled up where the tips of his talons rent his own decrepit flesh, splattering the base of his throne, and leaving smoking gouges in their wake.

“Wizard,” it intoned, “Submit yourself to my justice now, and I may go easier on her than I had planned.”  Hades chortled, the sound like dozens of nails dragged across chalkboard.  “I have needs, you see; lusts that _must_ be sated.  As my captive, your precious one will yield the carnal satisfaction I desire—and the harder she fights my incursions, the greater will be my pleasure in the taking.”  He opened his claw, and twirled one digit in the air, causing Teyla to spin and face him; she floated a few feet higher, so that her head was inches from the dark cloud obscuring Hades’ face.  “Come, little one,” came his sinister command, “Come and taste your future upon my tongue!”

The darkness sent tendrils threading through her hair, then pulled her close and completely surrounded her head.  Stephen heard Teyla’s scream in his mind before the sound reached his ears.  His own magic crackled around him, an electric current begging to be released.  The seconds dragged on relentlessly, and still he could ascertain no weakness that would allow him to attack and defeat the beast.  Shame and remorse—those old burdens which Teyla’s love had taught him he need no longer bear—flooded his chest.  How could he be so useless to save the woman who had revealed to him the value of his own soul?  Soon he _must_ act, despite the overwhelming odds of failure, chancing both their lives, if only to end her suffering—or take the deal that Hades had proffered.

Humming lasciviously, the creature cast Teyla at his feet, where she lay in a motionless heap.  “Faithless you are, Doctor Strange, to allow me such liberty!” it jibed, “Spells I have at my disposal that can deaden her senses to the full force of the depravities that she will endure.  In my awesome magnanimity, I will grant her this mercy—if you surrender yourself…NOW!!!” 

The wicked boom of its voice reverberated around Stephen, pushing him back two steps—but no further, as Stephen asserted that same will which had given him the strength to die a thousand times at the hands of Dormanmmu, so that Earth would be preserved.  Hades’ minions—who had been lingering just out of sight at the edges of the great hall, finally made themselves known, their caustic tittering surrounding Stephen in the swells of their madness.  He had sensed them all along, knowing they were waiting to move in upon their master’s command, another vicious obstacle to overcome if her were to save his sweet Teyla.  Cloak billowed around him, spoiling for action, eager to take on all comers in the impending battle.  _Soon_ , Stephen reminded his steadfast ally; _on my signal, and no sooner, if we are to have_ any _hope of success, my friend_.

Beyond any expectation, Teyla’s voice came to him then, this time as a pure, bright whisper in his mind.  _I have found a weakness, Beloved…Stephen…hear me, please…and we will both survive the battle to come…_

Stunned, he paused a moment, gauging the truth of their connection, needing to be certain it was not an illusion set by Hades as a trap.  _Teyla, honey_ , he sent back--careful not to let his face tip his hand— _is this really you?_

 _By the blessed light of the Sister-Moons, I swear that it is me_!  With those words, she sent a wave of love so strong that it filled his heart with vital understanding—she was conscious as she lay at Hades’ feet, she was strong enough to bear the tasks ahead, she had full faith that Stephen would triumph over the darkness.

 _He is foolish and over-proud, Beloved.  In the intimacy of that vile kiss, his mind became open to my empathetic gift.  And because he is bloated with vanity, he could not feel as I probed his mind’s depths._ Stephen felt her shiver as she pushed away the memory of the horrors she had encountered there.

Buoyed by the hope that came with her revelation, and by the fact that she had broken through the barrier which Hades had created between their minds, Stephen reached out his mind to hers.  _Tell me, Teyla.  Tell me quickly, and I promise he will pay for_ everything _he has done to you…_


	3. Chapter 3

With each word Teyla’s voice grew in strength and clarity, her confidence in him unwavering, while rousing the most potent magic in his veins.  _You must separate his head from his body, Stephen. It is the swiftest, surest way to break his power…_

 _That’s it,_ he queried, surprised that it could be so uncomplicated; _that seems way too simple, honey._

 _Nevertheless, it is so,_ she assured him.  _Yet your mission does not end there—for you must take the head from this place, as quickly as you possibly can and cast it into the hottest fire you can find.  There must be_ no _chance for head and body to reunite, or your effort will have been for naught._ Along with her instructions, Teyla sent the full warmth and depth of her faith in him—making him feel as though there was nothing in the universe he could not accomplish if he set his mind and heart to the task.  

Stephen immediately began to reckon the best means to achieve that goal.  He could feel Hades’ forces tightening their circle around him; their malice was palpable, nearly a living thing.  Teyla—though conscious—lay at the creature’s feet, far too close to it for Stephen to be certain she would not be injured or worse, in the coming fray.  Still attuned to him, she answered his concern-- _My will is now my own, Beloved, though in his hubris_ _he has not detected such.  Just tell me what to do; I will be ready upon your mark._

Love and pride swelled in Stephen’s chest; her courage and constancy were no less than she had always shown him.  Quickly, he factored Teyla’s assistance into his plans.  Though he knew she would do whatever his strategy required, he could not hazard her safety or survival—and so would rely on Cloak to shield her from immediate danger.

_Teyla, honey--can you manage to roll away from it, to the bottom of the dais stairs?_

_Oh yes, Stephen!  That I can do._ Her voice in his mind seemed to bring a much-needed, cooling caress to his brow.  Stephen smiled to himself, despite their dire predicament—for even now, she was his dear, brave Healer.

 _Then be ready, sweetheart—you’ll know when to move,_ he instructed her, _and don’t hesitate for even a second._

Teyla’s answer came to him upon a heartfelt sigh; _Beloved, it is as good as done already._

Stephen felt Cloak’s ripple of understanding as it tensed to spring into action.  He strode several steps forward, heard his own voice resound with conviction, all around the hall, “This is your final warning, Hades.  You seal your fate should you defy my terms.”

The creature barked out laughter, devoid of any cheer, “Faithless wretch, your fate—and that of your little consort--were sealed the moment you entered my realm.  Know my wrath now, before you fall, forever failed!”

Stephen nodded, for Hades answer was no more than he had expected.  He crossed him arms, silently chanting the spell he’d chosen to deploy first, then stretched his arms before him, hands open wide.  Thick coils of white light erupted from his fingertips, instantly cooling the humid air between himself and the creature--and in only a matter of seconds, enveloping Hades in a frozen sheath, product of the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon.  Though he knew the ice would not hold his enemy for long, Stephen believed it would be enough to disable him for a brief but crucial span of time.  _Now, Teyla,_ his mind shouted, _move now_.  At the same time, Cloak shot from his shoulders, zipping directly to Teyla where she had rolled a down the steps of the dais, and settled around her, before lifting her off the ground and flying her to the far corner of the vaulted ceiling.

Immediately—while the horrendous being was still, too-briefly, incapacitated—Stephen spun about and released the Mists of Munnopor, filling the ground level of the cavernous hall with thick, blue fog to temporarily blind the vile creatures surrounding him, spoiling their breath on the choking vapor.  They cawed and screeched, chittered and hissed in dismay, and soon enough, he heard the thud of heavy bodies colliding, and the clang of metal on metal, as Hades’ forces scattered in confusion, brandishing their weapons to cut down any in their path to retreat—allowing him to turn his full attention back to his main adversary.

None too soon; for hairline fractures had bloomed in the ice coating Hades, and moments later, a telltale crackling signaled that the hoarfrost was about to give way.  The ground began rumbling ominously beneath Stephen’s feet, and then shards of ice exploded from the thawing figure on the throne.  Instinctively, Stephen had conjured his Shields of Seraphim, sparing himself from mortal injury—though from the cries of pain in the fog around him, several of Hades fighters were not so lucky.

“Ice, Sorcerer?” the creature sneered, “I thought you a more worthy foe than this.  At least put up enough of a fight to entertain me for a time!”

A flare of bright blue light flashed from afar, momentarily drawing Stephen’s attention.  Cloak and Teyla had halved the distance between themselves and Hades, while she worked speedily to entrap her captor in tightening circles of neon blue energy.  Stephen grinned at the sight, recalling her reticence when she had first arrived at Kamar-Taj, to learn any but the most rudimentary battle spells; Healer and Empath by her very nature, she held the same motto that had ruled his adult life—do no harm.  Employing the Sapphire Bands of Storaan, she surely sought to bind Hades enough to allow Stephen opportunity to mount his offensive strategy.  _That’s my girl_ , he thought proudly, not at all surprised to see her rush to his aid.  And though he would prefer that Cloak would fly her from this place and keep her safe from further harm, he knew she would follow her own will in this--all the more incentive for Stephen to wrap this up quickly.

Stymied by the unanticipated assault, Hades jerked his head towards Teyla and spat out a string of gibberish so ugly that Stephen guessed him to be cursing in his native language—and possibly beginning to hurl a nasty spell at her.  Even with its body immobilized, power still seethed in its voice and through the black miasma that obscured its features.   With the crackle of electricity sparking from his fingertips, Stephen strode towards the throne and loosed the full force of the Bolts of Balthackk at the dark being; the orange lightening hit its mark, bringing Hades to his knees, howling in pain, but still able to strain hard against the bonds of Teyla’s handiwork.  Stephen judged it would free itself soon.

Though the blinding blue vapor at his back remained, he could hear several of Hades’ hardier forces moving through it, closing in on him again.  _Caught_ _between a rock and a hard place,_ he concluded grimly, _if only I had another_ _set of hands…_    

“I’ve got this, Stephen,” Teyla shouted, as Cloak landed her directly behind him, “Take the creature now, before he regains his full strength!”  Without even a look over his shoulder, he was aware that she had raised her Shields of Seraphim, steadfastly guarding his back.  He would not squander the precious time she had gained him.

As he moved closer to his goal, Stephen felt her follow his every step, back-to-back, holding the threat from behind at bay.  “It’s gonna get hot in here, honey. Brace yourself.”  Cloak rippled against him, signaling that both were prepared for what he planned next.

Hades had broken all but the final band that held him tight; as he struggled against the last, he released a series of furious growls that filled the air around them like a hungry pack of hell hounds.  Teyla yelped in pain, as the sound penetrated their ears, lodging itself like a hot metal spike deep in their brains.  Hades’ army was not immune either, for in moments their own cacophony of anguish echoed through the hall.  Stephen squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to collapse and cover his ears, laboring to maintain his focus, and knowing that all would be lost if he gave into this most brutal assault.    

By sheer force of will, Stephen finally clapped his hands together, grunting with the effort to block Hades cursed spell.  As he pulled them apart a pulsing green sphere began to take shape, wisps of flame arising from it to harmlessly lick at his skin.  First, twisting his hands to further enlarge the emerald fire, he then brought his hands the length of his shoulders apart; the sphere split, leaving him holding a ball of flame in each hand.  Though his skin remained unscathed, the air around him absorbed the growing heat, so that trails of sweat broke out on his face and neck.  Stephen began to hurl the Flames of Faltine at his enemy; with each one he released, a new one sprang to life in his hands. 

Engulfed in righteous, agonizing flame, Hades ceased his growling.  “I will flay your skin from your bones for this, wizard,” it promised, a scorching menace in every word it uttered, “But only after I flay hers, slowly, over the course of many days--while you watch, powerless to ease even an iota of her suffering!”  It began to waggle it head and arms, convulsing within the fire, causing the conflagration to lessen; its body smoked as the flames fell away, clearly wounded, though Stephen could not tell if the damage was mortal.  Hades remained upright, strong enough to descend the dais stairs, and moved to approach his quarry for the first time.  “Play time is over now, magician.  Your futile games no longer amuse me.”  It drew a deep, wailing breath and exhaled with enough force to drive Stephen back, the stench sulfurous and nearly debilitating.  “Know my true wrath, vainglorious human! None of your efforts will avail!”  When it inhaled again, Hades swiftly drew the black haze that obscured its face into whatever served it as lungs, held it inside until its rheumy eyes bulged, and expelled it directly at Stephen.

But Strange had been waiting for Hades to ply his most powerful spell; waiting and fully prepared to counter it with one of his own, most rarely used spells.  Passing his hands over the golden pendant on his chest, he brought to life the Light of the All-Seeing Eye of Agamotto.  In only a heartbeat, it’s clean, unwavering brilliance dispersed Hade’s spell, driving the evil being helplessly to its knees again, while leaving it vulnerable to Stephen’s final blow.

Precisely as planned, Cloak had settled itself upon his shoulders when Hades had fallen before the power of the Eye—so that now it flew Stephen above and close enough to his foe, for him to draw his Eldritch Sword. With a single, mighty swing, he cleaved the creature’s head from its body.  The heat of the blade sealed the gaping wound left behind, preventing a flood of deadly ichor from spilling from the body, which jittered relentlessly in its death throes.  The head rolled several turns, and came to rest at Teyla’s feet, an evil, shocked rictus permanently etched upon its foul features. 

Trembling with relief and spent adrenaline, she grunted as she kicked it back to the stairs, and then turned her very lost looking, sweet doe-eyes upon her lover’s.  “Stephen, I…” was all she managed before collapsing into a crimson heap upon the floor **…**


End file.
